


It's A (Ruff) Life

by a_dusky_gold



Series: Ruff Paws [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel (Supernatural) Deserves to be Loved, Dad Castiel, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Dogs, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Castiel (Supernatural), Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Furbabies, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Puppies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, dad dean winchester, dadstiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dusky_gold/pseuds/a_dusky_gold
Summary: Sometimes, it's the smol creatures that bring the most love with them. A series of snapshots in which Dean and Cas learn to love each other with their little pupper.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quillquiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/gifts).



> So, I'm late. As always, color me surprised. But oh well. It's still not midnight for me yet, so HAPPY BUDDAY [ casthewise ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/works) <3 <3 This is a paltry present, but I hope you enjoy it and it brings a smile to your day <3 <3 
> 
> Dedicated also to all my lovely readers and friends in the fandom who have been struggling this past week. I love you all and here is some furbaby dadstiel feels to hopefully make you feel a bit better. 
> 
> Also PSA - I do not have a dog and neither have I interacted with babies beyond the cursory they're the cutest in the world. All of my experience with both is secondhand, so if any of this feels off, please ignore it and read for the fluff!

****

**Chapter 1**

"Hey there, baby."

The answering bark that his laptop lets out echoes around his little dorm room. Dean looks up from where he's been scribbling on his notebook. He hadn't even looked at the screen when he answered the _bleep-bleep-bleeping_ of Skype, having expected the call. Saturday nights are sacred, the little bit of one-on-one time they've both carved out for themselves over the past year of college. Dean's missed out on too many of them as is, between classes and exams and socializing in a way he'd never thought he would actually enjoy.

Socializing, he thinks, that apparently he got so fucking caught up in that he forgot all about his dog.

Because Ruff is scratching and biting at her paw, worrying away at what is definitely a big slash on her foot.

Dean stares at it in surprise, his heart suddenly seizing up in his chest - she's hurt. Ruff is _hurt_ , and he didn't even know it, and Jesus fuck, why didn't Cas tell him?

"Before you start panicking, it's not a big deal, she's fine."

Cas's voice distracts him from the sandpaper scratching at his throat. Familiar tan fingers appear somewhere at the edge of the frame and suddenly, Dean's boyfriend is leaning over gangly dog limbs, struggling to get the cone on Ruff. She snaps at his teeth, not angry exactly, but with very much the petulance of the puppy she still thinks she is, even going on three years since they brought her home.

"Ruff," Cas snaps. "Settle down."

She barks at him, a trite sound of irritation and smacks Cas in the face with her tail.

Despite himself, Dean snorts. "Sassy mutt," he mutters.

"Don't call her names, Dean," Cas scolds. It's a familiar, practiced exchange - Ruff sasses them both, Dean calls her names and then Cas scolds him for it. Familiar, he thinks, enough to calm the pitter-patter of his rapidly beating heart and soothe the anxiety of not being there - of not being _enough_ \- for his family.

"What happened?" Dean asks.

"She went chasing after a rabbit. Got caught in some bramble, nicked her foot with- dammit, Ruff, sit!"

The command in Cas's voice is enough to get Ruff to behave, but isn't quite enough to stop the whine that tugs at Dean's heartstrings. Damn dog, always able to get him right in the gut.

"You're okay, mutt," he comforts. He wants to be there, wants to be petting her and whispering into her floppy big ears instead of telling her through a screen. He doesn't even know if she hears him. It isn't like dogs can understand Skyping.

Cas finally straightens up, having settled the cone around her. Ruff reaches out the second he's moved away, trying to get to her injured foot to lick at it. An injured bark escapes her when her nose bumps up against the cone and the look she shoots Cas is one filled with so much goddamned woe, Dean has to chortle.

"Don't make faces at me," Cas tells her gravely. "It's for your own good."

"That's the second time in as many years," Dean comments. "The mutt needs to be more careful."

Cas turns wide, worried eyes to him. "Do... do you," he stumbles. "Do you think we're doing something wrong?" he asks in a rush. "I should watch her more carefully, maybe change our walk routes to less dangerous-"

"Cas," Dean interrupts. "Babe, we're fine. She's a dog. She's gonna get into shit, it's what they do."

Cas stops, breathing in deep. His hand reaches out to pet at Ruff's head, absently rubbing at her chin. Ruff's indignation vanishes almost instantly. She leans into him, throwing her head back to allow him full access. The sight of it makes Dean miss home so hard, his heart feels like it's going to fucking balloon out of his chest and fly away.

"I just... I worry."

"Yeah," Dean murmurs. "I do too."

They both fall quiet, content to sit together the way they always do. He _chose_ this, going to college in a city that was six hours away from home. Just as Cas _chose_ to stay back, still living with his mom, with Bobby and Sam right across the street, still with his family. They were both better for it, needing to figure out their shit on their own for a while, needing to be their own person - or so Cas had said when he'd kissed him the day he'd left. Dean would be lying if he said he isn't glad for it; he's made friends and he's learned to do things for himself and enjoy it instead of doing it out of sheer obligation.

And still, every time he sees Ruff on screen, sees Sam worry about his own college applications, Dean wonders if he should transfer. If he should just pack up and head back to where his family is.

"I'm coming home," Dean says suddenly. "For the weekend."

It's the middle of term. Thanksgiving break is only a few weeks away, but he can't, Dean thinks. He can't wait anymore - he needs to see Ruff, needs to kiss Cas and feel the rough stubble of chin against chin, needs to bury himself so deeply in Cas that he won't resurface for the entire time he's there.

Cas inhales sharply. "Dean, you... are you sure?"

Dean nods. His fingers are itching to palm Cas's cheek, so he curls them around his pen instead, tightening his grip and clenching his fist.

"Yeah," he says. "I have only the morning class on Friday, so I'll drive down then. Monday's sociology class can eat my ass."

Dark brows draw down to the center of Cas's forehead in a familiar scowl. "Don't diss sociology," he says. "Too much investment in STEM and not enough in the humanities is the-"

"-reason why the world is dying," Dean finishes. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before."

And he has too. Cas is an English major with a minor in anthropology. Dean's heard all about how _“engineering students have problem solving skills based in logic and numbers but not critical thinking skills of how they impact the world, Dean, they don't ever think about the why of what they do and it's killing us all!”_

And the sight of Cas, squinting at him with his dark glare, Ruff cuddled against his side even as he works up to delivering his usual tirade, is so fucking beautiful, that it strikes Dean for the first time.

_This_ is his home. Cas is his home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Oh god, here. This is the last one." 

Dean ignores his brother's whine and his grunt as he rummages around in the kitchen, trying to arrange his dishes in the perfect order. The smaller spoons before the big ones, he thinks. It has to be _perfect_ \- 

The sound of crockery cracking echoes across the living room, and Dean straightens up. His brows draw in to a scowl as he marches out of the kitchen.

"Careful!" he snaps. 

Sam raises an eyebrow from where he is sprawled across the floor. "What?" he snarks back. 

"That's my crockery in there," Dean says. "If you've broken any of it..." he lets the threat hang. 

Which is, apparently, a bad idea, because Sam rolls his eyes and snorts. Seriously - _snorts_. Dean is going to punch him. 

"Yeah, okay, Betty Crocker," Sam says sarcastically. "Are you going to make chicken noodle soup and feed us all till we burst too?" 

Despite the derisive tone, Sam's expression is affectionate. Dean knows he doesn't mean it in an offensive way - Sam's always humored his need to take care of people - but he still kicks the kid's gangly limbs as he reaches over him to check on said crockery. 

"It's tomato rice soup," he corrects. "And you'll shut your goddamned mouth if you want any of it." 

The crockery is undamaged. Dean heaves a sigh of relief and flops down next to Sam, who kicks him back and stick his tongue out. 

"Okay, _Mom_ ," he says. 

"You shut your mouth, or so help me god, Sammy, I'll-" 

"What?" Sam teases. "Come at me with a rolling pin?" 

Dean throws himself at his baby brother, punching him in the chest lightly. It isn't a hard punch - nowhere near enough to hurt - but Sam _oomphs_ anyway, and flails. A second later, his own hit lands on Dean's shoulder and the next thing he knows, they're rolling on the floor, rough-housing like they haven't in a while. 

A loud yip distracts Dean and he's about to push Sam away when long, furred limbs join in. A wet tongue lops across his face even as a cold nose buries itself in his ear. 

"Ew, Ruff, get off," Dean swats at her. "Dog breath, yuck." 

Ruff barks excitedly and jumps on them instead. She and Sam go scrambling across the floor, Sam's indignance fading away into a loud, booming laugh. 

Dean sits up, eyeing them both warily as they flail around together, both of them looking utterly fucking ridiculous. 

"Looks like they're enjoying themselves." 

He turns around to see Cas shrugging off his jacket and shoes and dropping the dog leash on the floor next to them. Dean frowns - he'll need to get the coat racks and the shoe stand in place once he's done with the kitchen. He doesn't want his new, hardwood floor getting dirty. 

Christ, Sam is right, he really _is_ turning into Betty fucking Crocker. He can almost hear Dad sneering at him for being such a goddamned housewife. 

Mentally telling the image of John Winchester to shove it up his ass, he pats the floor next to him. Cas slides in close, resting his head on Dean's shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist, and fuck it. This is _his_ goddamned house - his and Cas's - and he's going to be as anal about it as he fucking likes. 

As though on cue Sam's hand flops over the carton of crockery still lying next to them. An ominous, cracking sound echoes between them and Sam stops, ignoring Ruff's whine as he sits up. His expression is wary as Dean narrows his eyes at him. 

"If you've broken even a single plate, Sammy," he threatens again.  

"You can just superglue them back together," Sam retorts. 

"I will superglue your face," Dean snaps back. 

"Very mature, Dean." 

"Don't you challenge me-"

"If either of you want to have dinner tonight," Cas interrupts mildly. "I suggest getting the crockery out and putting away at least half the box." 

Sam sighs and pulls Ruff in closer. "Cas," he whines. "So many boxes." 

Dean reaches out and swats at his shoulder. "You help unpack, we feed you, that was the deal. Chop chop, Sam." 

Ruff lets out an annoyed bark as Sam heaves a put-upon sigh and rolls to his feet. Dean leans in to pet her head, but she sniffs at his hand, an injured look on her face. Then, with a deliberate swat of her tail, she turns her back and follows Sam into the kitchen, where he's heaving the carton of crockery on to the counter. 

Cas snorts, burying a laugh in Dean's shoulder. 

"Damn mutt likes him more than she likes me," Dean pouts. 

A warm, rough hand palms his face. "It's okay, Dean," Cas murmurs. "I still love you."

"Yeah?" The corner of Dean's mouth turns up in a soft smile. "Enough to fuck me on the air mattress tonight?" 

Cas raises an eyebrow. "Bold of you to assume Ruff wouldn't have peed on it by the time we get to sleep." 

Dean draws him in. They're so close, he's basically breathing in the air that Cas lets out, and Dean's heart clenches so hard, his chest hurts. He can't believe he gets to have this, have _Cas_ , in this house with his brother in the kitchen with his dog, talking to her like she's going to understand or respond to anything any of them says. 

"Hey Sammy!" he calls. "You can have Ruff for the night!" 

The clinking of crockery distracts them and Dean huffs. 

"Don't you dare break a dish and mess up my full china set, Sam!" he yells. 

"I didn't break it!" Sam calls. A moment later, he tumbles out, a wild look on his face. Ruff follows him out, her tail wagging back and forth as she bumps her nose against his leg. "I can really have her overnight?" he asks. 

Dean snorts. "As _long_ as you bring her back tomorrow," he says pointedly. 

"Yes!" Sam cheers, picking up Ruff. She lets out a happy bark and licks at his chin. "Thanks guys." 

"No Sam," Cas says. "Thank you. It will be good to have the house to ourselves tonight." 

"Yup," Dean nods. "You'd be surprised at how much sex you can have without your mutt hangin' around." 

"Ew, gross Dean!" 

Dean huffs his laugh against Cas's cheek, dragging slow, soft kisses from his boyfriend even as Sam makes further gagging noises against them. A moment later, the sound of china clinking fills the room and Dean rests his forehead against Cas's. 

"He's gonna break a dish," he whispers. 

"We'll buy a new set." 

"Just like that," Dean huffs again. 

Cas smiles. "There's nothing I won't do for you, Dean," he says and Dean's heart beats so fast, he almost worries it'll spin itself out of his chest. 

In the end, Sam _does_ end up breaking a plate. 

But then, so does Dean, scrabbling for purchase when Cas bends him over the counter and rims him with an inch of his life before fucking him until he comes so hard, the plate drops out of his hand and falls to the floor. His come splatters across the shattered pieces. 

Dean takes one look at it, and then collapses on to the counter, laughing so hard, his chest hurts. 

They buy a new china set.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild triggers for emotional abuse, please read with caution <3

**Chapter 3**

Dean's phone rings. 

He ignores it, focusing hard on the newspaper in front of him. He knows he's being petty, but son of a bitch, Cas has to give him at least a fucking day to be pissed. 

"You gonn' get that, boy?" 

Bobby's voice is gruffer than usual. Dean doesn't respond beyond offering him a cursory shrug. Bobby doesn't push. It's what Dean loves about him - even when he showed up here last night, angry and hurt and stomping about like a madman, Bobby only rolled his eyes and let him into his old room, muttering about  _idjits_ under his breath the whole time. 

Silence falls between them. 

The sound of the phone ringing a second time fills the room. Bobby sets his mug down and stares at Dean, raising one salt-and-pepper brow in question. 

"Answer it, ya idjit," he says. 

"It's Cas," Dean deflects. "He can wait." 

He reaches out to grab the phone and turn it off, not bothering to even look at the messages that are blinking up at him. Cas's name is big and bold and bright and Dean really doesn't want to deal with him right now. 

"What'd you do, idjit?" Bobby asks. 

It's funny, Dean thinks, how much things stay the same even when they change. It feels like both yesterday and centuries ago that he was here, in this very room, in front of this very man, coming out to him. He'd been fighting with Cas then too, Ruff barely a presence in their lives, and already so, so important. 

"What makes you think I did anything?" Dean snarks back, the same as he'd done then. 

It's not beer but coffee this time, and Bobby's long, pointed slurp is just as much of a silent question as it was back then. 

"I... he... he wants to have a kid." Dean looks away, unable to meet Bobby's knowing eyes. 

Cas... Cas wants a kid. 

Cas wants a kid - with _him._

Dean's always known, of course, that Cas is it. For him, Cas is everything. There's never going to be anyone else, he doesn't want anyone else. 

And still, the statement had come straight out of left field. 

_ I want a baby with you, Dean.  _

A baby. 

A fucking... _baby_. 

"And you don't?" 

There's no judgment in Bobby's tone. Dean thinks he can hear a tinge of worry in it, though - a kind of worry that he'd never been able to hear in John's. Or if he'd ever heard it, it had been overshadowed by the anger and the hatred and the self-loathing his old man carried around with him all his goddamned life. 

The same self-loathing _he_ carries around... how can he do that to a kid? 

"I... I can't..." he stammers in response. Because hell yeah, he wants a family with Cas. But how can he be anything other than what his Dad trained him to be? 

"Jesus fuck," Bobby swears quietly. "I shoulda turned my shotgun on your daddy's ass the minute he drank his first drink." 

Dean rasps out an ugly laugh. There's a familiar burning at the back of his eyes that he violently tries to blink away. Looking for something to do, he turns his phone over in his hands, turning it on and off, slippery fingers sliding over it wetly even as he looks up to meet Bobby's gaze timidly. 

"I... I dunno how, Bobby," he admits. "How can I..." 

He doesn't know what he's asking - how can I be a good dad? Or how can I let go of dad? There's too many words, too many questions and thoughts and fucking feelings and he can't... he won't... 

Ruff's name lights up his screen. 

Dean frowns, distracted, as Cas's message pings across. It just reads _Ruff SOS_ and Dean's heart skips a beat. 

"I gotta go," he announces, standing up suddenly. "Something's happened with Ruff." 

Bobby eyes him a for a long, quiet moment, and then nods. "Go," he waves a hand. "Take care of the dog." 

"See ya later." 

Dean grabs his jacket and keys. It's only as he's about to walk out of the door that he hears it - Bobby's voice, quiet and certain and proud. 

"You're not your father, son. And any kid'll be lucky to have you as their daddy." 

Dean pauses. He can't stop the way his eyes burn this time and surreptitiously wipes a hand across them. He nods at Bobby, throat too tight to say anything, and Bobby raises his mug to him in a quiet, early morning toast. 

"Go," he says. 

"Thanks Bobby," he whispers. 

With a swift turn of his hand, he opens the door and strides towards the Impala. Sliding in, he scrolls through his messages, ignoring all of Cas's earlier texts and calls for him to come back. The last four or five, though, shift from them to Ruff, and his heart is in his throat as he presses down on the gas pedal. 

Ruff is sick. 

His idiot mutt is _sick_ and there he was, acting like the petty little asshole he was. 

He can't even fucking take care of a dog, how the hell is he supposed to add a kid to the mix? 

The fifteen minute drive to their house seems like an eternity, but he finally slides the Impala into the parking lot. He's throwing the door open even before he shuts the engine off and races down the driveway, throwing the door open in an attempt to get there faster. 

"Where is she?" he cries. "Cas? Is she okay? Where is the mutt?" 

A low, soft whine echoes across the living room, and Dean's heart clenches. He kicks his shoes off, dumps his jacket and keys somewhere in the general vicinity of the coat rack and key-bowl and slides in next to the two big lumps on the floor. 

"She's been whining all morning," Cas mutters. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair is wild, like he's been running his hands through it all night, and Dean carefully avoids looking at the tear tracks on his face. 

"She refuses to eat," Cas continues. "I think she wanted you, she wouldn't settle until I brought out your blankets and your shirt for her to sniff at." 

Ruff pokes her big brown head from the blanket fort Cas has built. 

Dean leans in carefully and presses a gentle kiss to her nose. A warm tongue slobbers dog-spit all over his face and Dean doesn't even protest it.

"You're sick, huh girl?" he scratches her back. "Yeah, it's okay. You're gonna be okay." 

She whines low in her throat and then kicks off the blankets. Cas huffs as one of them hit him in the face. But he doesn't protest it as Ruff walks over it, her small paws tearing tiny holes into the already-fraying threads in an attempt to get at Dean.  

Too late, Dean notices the small sock that Cas must have accidentally picked up along with his shirts. 

Son of a _bitch._

Ruff kicks at it, clambering up his lap. Dean's heart is in his chest and he reaches out, trying to grab it, even as he says, "Dammit, Ruff, careful - don't-" 

The sock flies out of his hand and onto Cas's lap and Jesus _fuck_ , why is this his goddamned life? 

He studiously avoids looking at his partner, focusing instead of pulling their dog on to himself. Ruff moans pitifully, licking at his face before burying her face in his stomach. She loves Cas dearly and there's no question who's her favorite when it comes to walks and playing, but moments like these... when she's sick or hurt, it's Dean she wants. 

God, she's his little baby. 

The thought of that... the thought that even if he can't take care of a kid, he's still pretty much a dog parent... it hurts. John Winchester fucked him right and good in the head, but even he can't take away the love Dean's heart swells with. 

Because he can bend down, look into Ruff's big, brown eyes and see his whole world reflected back at him. Because he can rub her little belly, and hold her close when she's sick like this. Because he can kiss her cold, wet nose and wrinkle his face at her only for her to lick at him in joy once again. 

"Dean?" 

Cas's voice is so quiet, Dean almost misses it. 

"Dean, what is-" 

"I was gonna ask," Dean interrupts. He knows what Cas found in the sock - he is that much of a goddamned cliché . "I was... gonna get Ruff to bring it to you." 

He'd planned the whole thing too. Rose petals, with a bottle of the white wine Cas loves because he's a fucking literary snob when he wants to be, and Ruff, in a tiny bow he bought off of Ebay with the ring nestled into it for Cas to look at and say yes to. 

Dean was so sure he would say yes. He was so certain that _he_ was it for Cas too, that this was their forever. Here, in this house, with this silly mutt of a dog who'd brought them together. 

The sharp intake of Cas's breath is telling. 

"You... _was_? You don't want to anymore?" 

He's known Cas his whole life, has been his best friend for most of that time, has been his lover for more than half a decade, and still, he can't quite figure out what the hitch in his voice means. When he looks up, Cas is looking at him with an expression that's so heartbreaking, Dean feels like his throat is being sandpapered with thorns. 

"I... You want a baby, Cas," he whispers. "I'm not... I can't even..." 

He looks down at the slumbering dog on his lap. She's finally passed out, huffing soft, warm breaths against his stomach, and Christ, he loves her so goddamned much. 

Cas presses one hand to his face, still holding the ring with the other. "It's not a question of can't, Dean," he says. "If you're not ready, that's okay. If you don't want a child, that's okay." He leans in, presses a tender kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth. "I know you," he says. "Tell me you don't want a family for a reason other than you're scared and I'll drop it." He rests his forehead against Dean's, his hand closing over Dean's fingers on top of Ruff's floppy ears. "Tell me you don't want a baby."

Dean can't. And Cas knows it, the son of a bitch. 

"Why did you come back?" Cas asks. "You always go off for at least a day after we fight. But you came back early. Why?" 

"You know why," Dean huffs. 

"You love her." It isn't a question, but Dean nods anyway. "What makes you think you're going to love a child any less?" 

Damn him. Damn him to hell and back. 

"It's not that simple. She's just a dog, Cas - we're talkin' a live human being and I can't-" 

"Are you saying she's less than a person, Dean?" Cas cuts him off. "That her hurts, her being sick isn't valid? That her wanting you - _only_ you when she's this vulnerable - isn't a sign of how much she loves you? That you rushing back for her isn't a sign of how much _you_ love _her_?" 

Dean's breath is stuck in his chest. The only thing he can hear is the way his own heart pounds blood into his ears and his hands are so clammy where they're clutching at Ruff, they're slipping off her fur. 

"Of course I love her," he snaps back. "I'm not invalidating her love, Cas, I'm just..." he trails off. 

For a long moment, silence falls between them, broken only by the soft huffs of Ruff's breath. 

"I'm terrified," he whispers. "I don't... _Dad_ loved me, Cas," he looks up, almost surprised to find that Cas is blurry in his vision. "He loved me, and still, he screwed me up so bad, I couldn't even see it for years and years. What if I do that to a kid - to my kid?" 

"What if you don't?" Cas counters, like it's that easy. "There aren't any guarentees in life, Dean, but..." it's his turn to look away now, unable to meet Dean's eyes. "I want a family with you. I want to wear this ring, I want you wear my ring, and I want a little girl or boy to chase Ruff around our backyard while we both watch from the porch." 

"Careful there, grandpa, or I might hand you a cigar and a beer," Dean quips. 

Cas huffs a small laugh and then shakes his head. "I want you to want it too." 

"I do." Dean gulps as Cas's face whips back to stare at him, the blue of his eyes tinged with the red of his tears. "I do want it. I want you. I want that cigar and that beer and I wanna yell at Ruff to heel when she's tired of chasing our kid across the yard. I just..." he doesn't know how to finish, how to ask for what he wants, so he just shrugs helplessly. 

The movement jostles Ruff out of her sleep and she whines again, pressing close to him. Her little body is shivering, shaking quietly, and it makes Dean want to fix it, to hold her close, to do... something, until she's okay. 

"Be patient with me?" he whispers. 

Cas leans in and kisses Dean's cheek. His stubble rasps against his chin and it's so good, Dean lets himself lean into his touch. 

"Always, love. Always." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

God, she is so fucking beautiful. 

Dean reaches out to clasp Claire’s tiny fist where she’s thrown her arms over her head. Her golden hair splays out on the pillow like it’s some silken blanket, and Dean wants to cry at how utterly perfect his little girl is. 

His other little girl - older now, but still as much of a baby as she ever was - whines from next to Claire, raising one floppy brown head to eye him warily. It’s hilarious, he thinks, the way Ruff’s taken to protecting Claire. After being unsure of this tiny humanoid creature who’s taken up all of her daddies’ attention, she had apparently decided that if she couldn’t beat ‘em, she’d join ‘em. 

So much so that she growls at Dean when he’s next to Claire. Like she’s doing now. 

“Stop that.” 

He swats at Ruff gently, booping her on the nose. She growls, laying her head by Claire’s tummy, eyeing him with the same stink-eye she reserves for the rabbits she chases in the park. 

“I just got her to sleep, Ruff,” he says. “If you wake her up again with your growling, I swear to God…” 

Ruff sniffles and then bumps her head against Claire’s hip. The six month-old huffs and Dean freezes, praying like hell that she isn’t gonna awake. He loves her, but for all that’s holy, the kid can scream up a storm. 

To his relief, Claire doesn’t wake up, but rolls over instead and throws her little arms over Ruff’s back and buries her face in the crook between the bed and Ruff’s head. Ruff sniffs at Claire’s hair, wiggling until she’s comfortable and then settles down. One ear is raised, though, a sign that she’s still on alert, and Dean’s heart clutches so tight, he thinks he might get a heartburn from it. 

Son of a bitch. 

And he thought the sight of Ruff as their ring-bearer, in her little tux and bowtie, was the cutest thing he’d seen. How the fuck is any man supposed to look at this not have his eyes burn the way they do right now? 

“Are you bothering the baby and the dog again?” 

A pair of strong, warm arms curl themselves around his waist and Cas presses his face into Dean’s back, kissing in between his shoulder blades softly. 

“I’m not bothering them,” Dean protest. It’s half-hearted at best, and Cas snorts before he turns Dean to face him. 

“Oh?” he hums, leaning their foreheads together. “Pray tell, what were you doing then?” 

“I… uh… just…” Dean glares at him when Cas chuckles. “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” Cas points out. 

“You were thinkin’ it,” Dean grumbles. 

“Such a slave driver.” Cas’s voice is teasing as he leans in for a kiss. “Even trying to control what I think.” 

Before Dean can retort, a soft, sharp cry breaks through the quiet from behind them. Ruff is up in a second, barking to get their attention, and the sound of her sets Claire off and the next hour is a whirlwind of barks and whines and baby cries as they try to get both the girls to settle down. 

“Shit fuck,” Dean says as he rocks Claire back and forth. 

"Language," Cas reminds him. "Or Claire's first word is going to be fuck." 

Dean makes a face.  “Tell me again why we decided to do this?” 

Ruff whines from next to him, annoyed at having her tiny human taken away. Cas pets her on the forehead, scratching her until she settles, and then turns to Dean with a raised eyebrow. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” he says mildly. 

It’s Dean turn to huff but he doesn’t protest the statement. 

Yeah, he does love it. Even it’s a cuckoo pile of crazy. 

**-end-**

**Author's Note:**

> Ruff's personality is also very much drawn from one of my friends' dogs, who is such tragic Shakespearean hero, I had to use him :P WOE IS THEM ALWAYS.


End file.
